


Why Not?

by Iansthugmuffin



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, idk how else to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:14:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2750702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iansthugmuffin/pseuds/Iansthugmuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whole thing came into being because Mickey stole a gun. Which is kind of funny, if you think about it, because their whole relationship has kind of been like a gun going off; spur of the moment decisions, challenges being met, nothing was gradual. Well, almost nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Not?

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know what this is.

The whole thing came into being because Mickey stole a gun. Which is kind of funny, if you think about it, because their whole relationship has kind of been like a gun going off; spur of the moment decisions, challenges being met, nothing was gradual. Well, almost nothing.

It started with a gun. Which then turned into a tire iron, being held cold and hard to his back by a very pissed off redhead. He thought he was being clever, when he pretended that he was going to just give the gun back to Gallagher, _as if_ he was giving up without a fight. Looking back it’s easy to realize that maybe he _should_ have just given it back, considering the ripple effect it would have. But he didn’t.

They fought for a few seconds before Mickey gained the upper hand, holding the tire iron above his head, panting, with Gallagher trapped beneath him, in between his legs; he’d won. But had he? Because then they were scrambling to get their clothes off, and Mickey was whispering harshly to “Just hurry the fuck up and get on me”, and they were fucking, rough and quick and perfect, leaving Mickey aching in all the right places when they’d finished. Gallagher tried to kiss him, and he considered reciprocating for all of two seconds before threatening him. Needless to say, the redhead didn’t try to kiss him again.

To this day, he still doesn’t know _why_ he did it. Why he decided to let the ginger- at the time, puppy- fuck him, let him know his big secret, know that he’s gay. But then, it wasn’t really a decision. It was more just a “Why not?” And if Mickey could go back in time, he would tell his past self exactly w _hy not_. Tell him all the things that could, _and would,_ go wrong. But then, tell him to fight for that gun anyway, because all those things were kinda worth it in the end. That stupid redhead was worth it.

**

He’d just happened to be walking by when it happened again; the second ‘why not’. He was walking past the convenience store and glanced through the window, then he saw him. Ian Gallagher, behind the counter where the register was, leaning over it and looking incredibly bored. He considered walking on by, but that thought lasted all of 1.2 seconds before he was pushing the door open. Because, why not?

The second time they fucked was just as good, if not better, than the first. Gallagher seemed to catch on pretty quickly that with them, it was just down to business. They fucked in the freezer at the back of the store, both of them were quiet, swallowing down their own grunts and moans. When they were finished, they got re-dressed and Gallagher quietly led him back out of the store. In the back of his mind Mickey remembers thinking that maybe they could get through this whole thing without really talking, it would be easier that way for sure.

But then there was Gallagher, talking, ruining the whole thing with a dopey grin on his face. And, well, maybe Mickey could let the talking slide. “Guess this was just a booty call then, huh?” Not really knowing how to respond to that Mickey just brushed it off. “Whatever. See ya.” Because of course that’s all it was. That was all it _could_ be.  

**

They kept on that way for a while, seeking the other out when they needed it. But then one day there was a knock at Mickey’s door, and it was Gallagher- no, Ian- it was Ian. And no, he couldn’t do this, not here and not now. Not when his dad was home and conscious. But then he saw the wrecked look on Ian’s face, and the way he was shaking as words tumbled out of his mouth.

“I need to see you.”

Mickey tried to build up his defenses, to get him to go. Even if he really didn’t want him to. “Not a good time.” He bit out.

But Ian responded with “I didn’t know where else to go”, and Mickey caved.

Ian was wrecked, and it made Mickey’s heart clench, and he _caved_. This was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They were supposed to seek each other out when they needed the other to get off, not when they _needed_ each other as comfort. They shouldn’t even _be_ comfort for each other, yet here they were.

The next thing he knew, he was telling Ian to meet him at The Kash and Grab in twenty minutes, before slamming the door in his face. He couldn’t stand to look at the pain there any longer than he had to.

By the time Mickey got to the store Ian seemed to have composed himself a little better, but there were still remnants of pain evident on his face. Ian fucked him slowly, and with purpose. Mickey was tempted to tell him to ‘just pound me already’, but then he remembered why they were here.

Mickey was gripping tightly onto a metal shelf in front of him as he was thrust into from behind. Then he felt a slightly larger hand grip tightly over his own. It was too intimate, too close. But Mickey didn’t shove the hand away. Because, why not?

*

Shit went down after that. Mickey got shot, he went to juvie, but then one day he had a visitor. Ian Gallagher. And he allowed himself to be excited for when he got released. Because Ian missed him, he told him as much. Ian was still going to want him. And after that visit he began counting the days until he got out.

**

It was hot and it was perfect, the seventh time they fucked. They didn’t jump right in to it like they used to. No, they talked. Ian did most of the talking and Mickey listened. He knew this was probably going to end badly, they were getting in too deep. Fuck buddies didn’t talk like this.

But here they were, talking and taking their time before they got down to the real reason they were here. But why not? It was hot out and they had snuck into the dugouts of the baseball field, and they had it all to themselves. Why shouldn’t they take their time?

When Ian finally did fuck him, it was better than all of the previous times, it was so good they fucked twice.

**

They were in their safe haven of the freezer in the back of their store. Well, it wasn’t _really_ their store, but it sort of seemed like that’s what it was becoming. Mickey had been feeling bold, or maybe stupid. He wasn’t really sure. But he sat on top of the table in the freezer and grunted at Ian to “Just fuck me like this”, and he did. He looked a bit surprised at first, but then he was fucking Mickey face to face, and slowly.

Being able to watch Ian as he fucked him was kinda great. He distantly wondered if Ian felt the same way, but he probably did knowing him. Which he did know him, he wasn’t supposed to, but he did. _God_ , he did.

He thought to himself that maybe they could do this again. And why not? Both of them were enjoying it, there would be no reason not to. They _should_ fuck this way again.

But then Frank Gallagher walked in on them, and everything went to shit; again. Mickey begrudgingly wondered if this was going to become a thing for them, everything going to shit. But then, he didn’t really care, because the parts where things didn’t go to shit were kinda worth it.

**

Mickey went to juvie again. He’d tried to end it with Ian, telling him they were done. But he knew he couldn’t really end it. He tried though, fuck, did he try. 

But when he got out he found himself seeking out that stupid redhead again. It was just natural, like a reflex. He barely even fought it. Because, why not? Well, he could probably come up with a thousand reasons why not, but that didn’t change his path as he walked towards Ian.

When they fucked the fifteenth time, Ian wasn’t a scrawny, freckly kid anymore. He looked good, no, he looked great. And he was more confident. But he was still the same, he was still _Ian_. He still gave Mickey those shy smiles, now hidden between smirks.

Then Mickey did a dumb thing, or rather, said it. “Missed ya.” And no. He shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t miss the way Ian lit up, he wasn’t even looking at him, but he could feel it. The shift in the air.

“You did?” And shit. There it was, that hope. _Hope_. He could hear it in Ian’s voice since the beginning, “guess this was just a booty call then, huh?” Hope that maybe they could be something more, that _they were_ something more.

He quickly backtracked. “Yeah, man. I had to do all the fucking in juvie, otherwise I'd end up someone's bitch, right? Nice to switch back.”

He knew it was bullshit. Hell, Ian probably did too. But he couldn’t leave it at that confession, that he’d _actually_ missed him. Letting Ian think maybe they were getting somewhere. Because they were, and it scared the shit out of him. He wanted it just as much as Ian did, but he couldn’t. They couldn’t be what Ian wanted, no matter how much it hurt for them not to.

**

He kissed him. It was stupid, really. But Ian had challenged him and fuck if he wasn’t going to meet that challenge. It was a warm day, but not too warm. And sunny, and perfect. And there was no one around, so he thought, why not?

And it’s funny because there’s every reason why he shouldn’t have. Because this was a kiss. It _meant_ something. But he did it anyway. It was short, and closed mouthed. But it was perfect. And it made him feel like he was flying, and he kind of wondered why he’d waited so long to just give in and do it.

Stuff kinda went to shit after that, but he was learning to expect it. And really, he’d take being shot in the ass to losing Ian any day.

*

Stupid. That’s what it was. Because there was no way in hell that it could end okay. But he felt brave, so why not?

“Hey, my dad took my brothers on a run outta town for a couple days. So, if you wanna ditch that dump and crash at my place you can.” He said it with a shrug, he needed it to not be a big deal. But it kinda was.

His heart sort of flew, when Ian’s face broke into a huge smile. When he fucking _laughed_. It was kind of amazing that he was able to make Ian this happy, he had to walk away before Ian could see that he was smiling too.

Ian _did_ come over. And they watched movies, and laughed. They kissed, _a lot_. And they fucked. They didn’t cuddle, because Mickey wasn’t about to let that happen. But then his mind wandered. _Maybe one day…_

Things _really_ went to shit after that. They went to shit so much that Mickey didn’t think they would come back out of it alive.

His dad found them, naked and vulnerable. He hit Ian, and Mickey saw red. He jumped onto his dad then he found himself being flung backwards onto the couch. He was pistol whipped and beaten. He was breaking.

All the while he had to see that look on Ian’s face. See that _pain_. He decided then and there that he couldn’t stand to see it ever again. So, when his dad had some whore come to fuck him, _fuck the faggot out of him_ \- as his dad said. He had another, why not? And he flipped her over and just pounded into her. It was the first why not in a long time that actually hurt. It felt like being cut into from all sides, but he did it anyway. Seeing Ian’s broken face hurt so much more.

**

They did make it out alive, in the literal sense. But they themselves were broken. He couldn’t even look at Ian anymore, all he saw was how broken he had looked that day. So he didn’t.

He pushed Ian away, no, fuck, he hurt Ian. He _really_ hurt him. And he was hurting himself too, just as much.

He got married. He got married to that whore his dad hired to fuck him. And he did it because his dad made him. The worst part was that Ian came. He fucking came to that stupid- ass wedding.

He came looking destroyed. With tears in his eyes and pleading Mickey to just _please don’t do this_. And it hurt too much, so he kissed him. He kissed him so he wouldn’t have to see that pain anymore. Then they fucked. And Ian fucked him roughly, but also gently; if that’s even possible. But he did.

When they finished Ian was smiling again, but it was just hope. And he had to crush it.

“So what are we gonna do? We gonna tell everyone to leave?”

“Nah, I’ll go get this shit over and you can wait here for me. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, right? Better be ready for round two.”

And then the hope was gone. And Ian was breaking again, and Mickey was the one breaking him.

“You’re not seriously going through with this, are you?”

“Why you acting like I got a choice in this?” Because he didn’t. Didn’t Ian know he was trying to protect them? Trying to protect _him_?

“This is bullshit. Listen to me, Mickey. You’re dad, is an _evil, psychotic, prick_. You’re just gonna let him ruin your life?”

“You need to grow the fuck up! Don’t act like you know a thing about my dad.” But the thing was, he did. And it scared Mickey. He knew more about Mickey’s life than anyone.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” And shit. Mickey wanted to be. He wanted to walk out of that building holding Ian’s hand, never looking back. But he couldn’t. And fuck, it hurt too much. He had to let him know that this wasn’t what he wanted. _Had to_.

“Not everybody gets to just… Not everybody gets to just blurt out how they fuckin’ feel every minute.”

And that’d done it. He didn’t realize it yet. But that was the final straw. Ian had been broken as much as he could take, he was done.

*

A few days later when Ian came by his house, Mickey tried. He tried to get him to go back to how they were before. Before _that_. But Ian turned him down. Maybe that’s when he realized that Ian was done. _Really_ done. But if it wasn’t, then the moment Ian spoke the next words was.

“I’m uh, leaving town.”

“There a queer rights rally somewhere?”

“Army.” And no. No way was this actually happening.

“Ah, right. Gotta be eighteen.”

“Yeah, I uh, figured a way around that.”

And that’s when he realized this was real. They were done. Ian was fucking _leaving_. Going off to war and leaving him behind. They were so broken now, and the pieces that were just barely holding them together were chipping away.

“You serious? You’re signing up?”

“Tomorrow morning.” He said it like it was no big deal. Like they weren’t being ripped apart, like they were never going to last anyway.

“That’s a dumb-ass fucking move. How long?”

“Four years. Minimum.” Four years. Fuck, they hadn’t even been _together_ for four years, but somehow it had been a lifetime. This was it and Mickey put his defenses up again. Because he had to. They were over.

“What are you hoping? I’ll tell you not to go? Imma chase after you like some bitch?” And he wanted to. He wanted to hold Ian down and _make_ him stay. Make them okay again.

“I didn’t come here for you.”

And then he crumbled. He felt panic rising up in his throat as Ian turned and started walking away. He made one last attempt at life, at keeping _them_ alive.

“Don’t.”

And Ian got this funny look on his face. “Don’t what?”

Don’t leave me. Don’t give up on us. Don’t break my heart. But he couldn’t say all that. Ian just had to know, he _had_ to. 

He let out a shaky breath. And Ian’s mouth lifted up in a small sad smile as he walked away.

The tears came then. They came for days. Then he was just broken. He had flat lined.

**

“You know you’re the reason he left? So go find him.”

His sister’s words rang in his ears as he walked into his room. The room that had a sleeping pregnant woman- his wife- in it. The room that wasn’t his, not really. It hadn’t been his since the day Ian left it, left him.

Ian had been gone for two months and he never really recovered. Those months were hard. He spent so many nights wide awake, imagining that redhead lying dead somewhere. He had no way of knowing if he was okay. And yet, he hadn’t really tried to find out.

And here his sister was, pushing him. Telling him to grow the fuck up and take responsibility for once. So he thought, for the first time in months, why not?

*

Clubs weren’t his thing, in fact, he fucking hated them. But that’s where he had to go to find Ian. So he went.

He spotted him almost immediately. Like they had some sort of fucking connection or something. Because given how crowded it was, and the fact that Ian had his fucking back to him, he shouldn’t have been able to spot him as quickly as he did. Maybe it was fate. But if it was, then fate really fucking hated them.

Ian was different. It wasn’t hard to tell, he wasn’t okay. Mickey tried to get something out of him, but all he got was a lap dance and twenty-five dollars down the drain.

Ian acted like he didn’t know Mickey, like he was just another _customer_. And fuck that. He used to be the guy Ian ran to when he needed comfort. The guy who made him laugh, _made him smile_. He used to be _his_ guy. But now it clearly wasn’t like that. And that hurt more than not knowing where Ian was.

He got kicked out of the club. Of-fucking-coarse he did. But he didn’t leave. He waited until Ian’s shift got over. Until he saw some nasty geriatric viagroid leading him outside. Then he pounced.

He got that creep the _fuck_ away from him, because Ian was too out of it to do it himself. And speaking of Ian… There he was, lying passed out in the snow. Nothing on but a fucking tank top and jeans. All Mickey wanted to do, _needed_ to do, was get him home. Get him warm. And, why not? So he picked Ian up, the fucking giant. And he did just that. He brought him home.

**

The asshole was just sitting there. Sitting on his bed writing in his tiny notebook, as if Mickey wasn’t stand there staring at him expectantly. So he wanted Mickey to make the first move? Fucking. Fine.

“You comin’ back?”

Ian looked up at that, with a stupid look on his face. “Depends. Will you suck my dick whenever I want?”

And wow, yeah he wasn’t expecting that. “Fuck off.”

Ian just shrugged and kept writing. Like he didn’t care one way or the other. Mickey just stared. Ian was different, but Mickey was determined to get him back. Prove that he could be what he wanted, what _they both_ wanted. He was finally ready for that.

“What’cha writing?”

“Notes. Ideas.” He wasn’t even looking at Mickey as he said it. And then that question popped into his head. Why not?

“I’ll do it.”

Ian looked up again. “You’ll do what?”

Asshole. He knew full well what it was Mickey would do, and that was _anything_. “Don’t make me say it, ass-wipe.”

Ian had a smirk playing on his lips. “Suck my dick, whenever I want.” And fuck, he couldn’t even stand this one more second. So he thought, fuck it, and got down on his knees right there and then. He gave Ian the best blowjob of his fucking life.

But it didn’t last long, he didn’t even finish. Then Ian was pulling him up off his aching cock and to his own lips. Kissing Mickey like he couldn’t breathe when he wasn’t, and Mickey kissed him back just as hard.

Later, when they’d finally settled down, Ian asked him if he wanted to just stay there that night. And he didn’t even consider asking himself why not before he was telling Ian, “Sure, man”.

**

Mickey was trying really hard to determine if Ian was still high or not. The idiot just tried to kiss him, _in public_. In the middle of that fucking club where he worked in his tight booty shorts and no shirt, he’d tried to kiss Mickey.

But when Mickey pulled away with a “The fuck?” Ian didn’t have any disappointment on his face, it was almost like he was expecting that reaction. Like he was used to it. And _fuck_ no, Mickey wanted to surprise him again, because that had always felt kinda nice, surprising Ian.

So he looked around the club, coming to the realization that no one around them would notice- or care for that matter- if they kissed. Then there was Ian, who now had a smirk on his lips, again. And he found himself asking that question he’d been asking from day one. Why not?

So he did. He kissed him. They kissed until they had to break apart to breathe, only to go back in again. And he slowly started to realize, all those reasons not to could never compete with the reasons why he should.

**

It was inevitable, really. Ever since that first day, it was going to happen. There was going to be a make or break for one of them. And this was Ian’s. Mickey always thought it was when he’d gotten married and Ian left. But clearly, he was wrong.

They had been getting back to normal, but it was better this time. Because they kissed, and they fucked, and they kinda fell in love even more than they already were. But something wasn’t right, Ian was off. He was _different_. But Mickey tried to ignore it.

Ian asked him if they were a couple or not. Mickey responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Course we are.”

Mickey asked him if the party for his kid was _really_ where Ian wanted to be spending his day off. Ian responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re here.”

But then things went to shit, as they usually do. But did they really? Ian was done playing hide and kiss. He was done pretending. And to be honest, Mickey was too. He was from the beginning, but he couldn’t just s _top_. Didn’t Ian understand? But maybe he did, and maybe he was just too tired of it all.

“We’re done.” Then Mickey’s heart stopped.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Because, honestly, the fuck? They were happy.

“I don’t have any interest in being a mistress anymore.” And there it was, Ian’s make or break.

“Jesus christ, when did you get so dramatic?” What he didn’t say was, when did you change? When did what we were become not enough?

“When I realized what a pussy you are.”

“Say that again and imma kick your fucking ass.”

Then Ian was walking towards him, pressing his face as close as it could be without touching. “Oh, come on. Come on, big guy. You think you’re a tough man? Huh? You’re not. You’re a coward.”

And fuck that hurt. Because Mickey knew he was a coward, for letting Ian go, for cowering in his father’s shadow. But it hurt so much to hear _Ian_ say it. “Fuck you. You don’t understand this at all.” Another lie.

“Oh I do understand. I understand better than anyone, that you’re afraid of your father, you’re afraid of your _wife_ , you’re afraid to be who you are.” And he was right. He was right about all of it.

“You know what? Good. Leave. The hell do I care, bitch.” But he did care. He cared so much it hurt. And as he watched Ian slip on his coat and leave, everything was put into a new perspective. He could either let Ian walk out that door, probably never coming back to him. Or, he could face his fears, face his _dad_ , possibly getting hurt in the process. But really, it would be worth it, if he got to stay with Ian then it would be worth it. So, honestly, why not?

“Hey! Excuse me! Can I get everybody’s attention, please? I just want everybody here to know, I’m fuckin’ gay. Big ‘ole mo. Just thought everybody should know that.”

Fuck. He’d done it. He just came out to a bar in the south side, a bar his dad was sitting in. But Ian was still there, he looked shocked. But he was still there.

But he had to know. “You happy now?” Ian didn’t respond, just continued to look shocked. He’d take that as a yes.

But then his dad was coming towards him, beating him up again. Eventually Ian joined in too, fighting for Mickey. It was ugly. But they made it out alive, _really_ alive. They were bruised and broken, but they were the happiest they’d ever been.

They went back to Mickey’s house and cleaned up. They kissed each other gently, both too sore to do anything more. And then they fell asleep, curled up together in Mickey’s bed, no, _their_ bed. They were safe.

*

Stuff went to shit again after that, the very next fucking morning things went to shit. In some ways it was worse than all the other times, but somehow it also wasn’t. Because they’d _done_ this before. They knew how to get out alive. And so they did.

Things became kinda perfect after that. They were living together, they were in love, and they were fucking _domestic_. And yeah, it was kinda perfect.

Slowly, Mickey got better at showing affection. He’d never forget the first time he held Ian’s hand. It was just in the dark of their room, but Ian’s face lit up like the sun, and it made Mickey feel like a superhero.

He still had ‘why not’s. But they slowly stopped even mattering. He didn’t have to ask himself why not? Before kissing Ian whenever he wanted anymore. He did it because he wanted to, and it was natural. That’s _why_. And that was enough.

They slept in on the weekends. Just lying in bed, kissing, having slow lazy sex. Sometimes even just talking and running their fingers over each other wherever they could reach.

Eventually, they started holding hands in public. The first time was at The Alibi, the very place he’d come out at all those lifetimes ago. Ian was laughing with Mickey’s sister. And god, he looked beautiful. Mickey wanted to kiss him, but instead he reached over and grabbed Ian’s freckly hand and laced it with his own. Ian _beamed_. And from then on he couldn’t even think of a reason why he shouldn’t hold his hand whenever he wanted to. So he did.

Months became years, and before he knew it they’d been together so long he couldn’t remember life before Ian.

**

He woke up to soft kisses being pressed into his neck. “Mick, you awake?”

He huffed out a laugh, because that’s what they did now. They laughed, because they were happy.

“I am now, asshole.”

Ian let out a breathy laugh behind him, tickling the hairs on the back of Mickey’s neck. “You know what today is?”

And yeah, he did. But he wanted to hear Ian say it, so he played dumb. “Uh, Saturday?”

A swift kick to his leg. “Fuck you. You know.”

Mickey sighed and turned around to face him. To face that beautiful boy he’d fallen in love with all those years ago, and more still every day. He gently brushed his finger down Ian’s face. Just making sure this was real. It had to be. He spoke softly.

“I wanna hear you say it. Please just tell me this is real, Ian.”

Ian gave him a small smile and lifted Mickeys hand to his lips to kiss it. He whispered the next words like it was a secret. And maybe it was.

“We’ve been together for ten years. And yeah, this is real.”

Ten years. A lifetime. And yet, not long enough. But that’s okay, they still have the rest of their lives to make more lifetimes.

They didn’t say it often. Hell, it took Mickey years to become brave enough to say it at all. But looking at Ian now, who was smiling at him like he was the most important thing in the world, made him want to. He leaned closer and gently pressed Ian’s lips to his own, before pulling barely an inch away.

“I love you.”

And there was no ‘why not’ beforehand. He’d retired that question years ago. He’d always ignored it anyway. And seeing the way Ian’s face broke in to a huge smile? Yeah, it was worth it. It was _all_ worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> ~[My Tumblr](http://iansthugmuffin.tumblr.com)


End file.
